Page 52 of Our Hearts to Break

“I wonder if you would have turned out this way if we hadn’t…” He scowls. “Your childhood was unconventional. I tried. But I was never good with children. I didn’t know how to be a parent.”

“That’s not why I’m gay,” I respond, surprisingly calm given the circumstances. “Sexuality isn’t a choice. It’s who I am. If you have a problem with it?—”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

“You don’t need to. River is my boyfriend. I love him. We’re not telling anyone… but not because I want to keep us a secret. And there’s nothing more to say on the matter.”

My dad rises from the chair and inches toward me. “I love you, Nate. I never tell you, but I do. I’m not good at this stuff.”

I glance at River. He presses his lips together, staring at me wide-eyed and in disbelief.

“Who are you? Where is my real father, and what did you do with him?”

He chuckles, making the wrinkles around his eyes seem more pronounced. “After you left the house, your mother put things into perspective for me. She reminded me of…”

My mom appears in the entryway as if conjured by his words. Petite and thin, she wears a black dress pinched at the waist, stopping beneath her knee. It’s tight but elegant. She looks the part of a billionaire’s wife.

“We screwed up, Nate.” She stands beside my father, the two now hovering over me. “The things that Veronica did to you… They never should have happened under our roof. I was supposed to protect you. We both were, but we failed you.”

I sniff back the tears streaming down my cheeks. “Yeah, you did. She fucking hurt me. Every weekend for almost a year. And the nightmares…” I wipe my eyes with my hand. “I still wake up dreaming about what she did to me. If it weren’t for River, I’d probably be dead. I thought about killing myself so many times. But then, I thought about River. And I couldn’t do it.”

My mom kneels beside the chair and takes my hand. “We know. And we’re very thankful you found River. He was there for you when we couldn’t be… didn’t know how to be.”

“You sent me away,” I snap, enraged by how they didn’t love me enough to help me through the worst part of my life. “I told you what she was doing to me, and you didn’t believe me. Not until you saw it for yourself. And then, you tossed me away like trash. Sent me across the country to live with strangers when I needed you.”

She leans forward and gives me an awkward one-arm hug. River slides off my lap and extends his hand.

As I rise from the chair, my dad says, “I didn’t go to the police because I didn’t want to put you through a trial and all of the publicity. You were so young and scared and… I took care of Veronica in other ways.”

My jaw ticks. “When? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Right after we caught her in your bed. She hasn’t been able to gain employment anywhere in the country since.” He pulls out his cell phone and shows me an image of a beat-up motel with a sign displaying that they rent rooms by the hour. “She lives here, working as a prostitute. It’s the only work she can get.”

“Why did you let me hate you for all of these years? You could have told me sooner.”

Dad sighs. “I didn’t know how to talk about her with you.”

My mom throws her arms around me, resting her head on my chest. She’s so tiny compared to me. “I’m sorry, Nate,” she sobs. “She was my best friend. It never should have happened. And I know you hate me. Nothing I can say or do will take away your pain, but I want to be here for you. It must be scary for you to come out publicly with River.”

“We’re not telling anyone,” I say, still in shock. “And why are you guys so cool about me being gay?”

After they sent me away, I stopped caring about pleasing my parents. Yet, I crave their love. Deep down, I need to know I am worthy. Only River has made me feel safe and loved. In his eyes, I am always enough.

“We’ve all experimented with the same sex,” my mom says with a shrug. “Nothing wrong with it.”

My mouth drops as my eyes land on my dad. He clears his throat, averting my gaze. Without speaking, it’s clear theexperimentationextends to him when he refuses to look at me.

“Wow,” I mouth. “Okay. I guess that makes sense. The things I saw at the house growing up… I thought I made them up.”

So much of my childhood feels like fiction. I have spun stories in my head, attempting to rearrange the worst parts to change the narrative. On several occasions, I caught my father naked and in the arms of another man. My mother was there, too. The three of them kissing and touching.

My mind was too underdeveloped to register what I had witnessed. It happened a few more times. Once, I even saw my father fucking another man. He was much younger, probably in his early twenties. All types of people came to their parties—everyone from porn stars to their closest friends with specific kinks.

So, all of that was real.

“I’m not experimenting with River,” I tell them. “And I don’t want to marry a woman.”

“You don’t have to,” Mom says sweetly. “Your father only said that because he thought it would make your life easier. It works for us… and he thought you could have the same thing.”

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